Blizzard
by Runic Healer
Summary: Cullen met Surana after an accident in the Tower's Library. Infatuated, Cullen wants to know more about the stoic elf. However, demons watch and stand vigilant, waiting to claim the elf as their prey. Pre-Origins. Warning: Pre-SLASH Cullen/Surana , rape, abuse, explicit.
1. I

**Author:** Methinks I lack commitment. While the Dragon Age craze is still on, I will post this... Anyways... I would like to thank Kira Tamarion for beta-reading this piece! You are awesome! :D

**Warnings:** If you don't like Homosexuality, then I suggest you leave. This story features a romantic relationship between two MALES. So if YAOI/slash isn't your cup of tea, this is a good chance to exit. Also, if you are uneasy with Rape, bits of emotional torture, angst, and unhealthy relationships... you can leave just as well.

**Summary:** "What makes you so sure you won't do the same as him? What gives you the assurance that you won't end up like him?" Cullen's mouth felt dry and he couldn't think of a good answer, but deep down, he is sure that he won't be the same. "Prove me I'm wrong. Prove it to me that you are truly different."

**Blizzard**

_The first time he saw him, he was talking with some plain-looking human apprentice, and Maura Amell. The second time, he was in the library reading dusty old tomes. And the third time, he was practicing lightning spells while tutored by First Enchanter Irving._

_Maura would mention Surana sometimes, when they talked. He never actually met the young elf, but from what Maura said, Surana was quiet most of the time, and he only mingled with Jowan and Maura because they sat together in many Herbalism lessons when they were younger; they became friends as they grew older. Maura also mentioned that Surana is one of the most gifted apprentices in their age group, and that he is Irving's star student._

_He met Surana, for the first time in the library. It was when he met Surana the second time that they finally met officially._

_Cullen was nineteen, and Surana was sixteen at that time._

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

One of the older knights, Drass, was sick. Cullen was assigned his shifts until Drass well; from noon to supper, one of the places he had to patrol was the library.

All he had to do was walk around, check what the apprentices and other mages are doing, then walk around again. Then again, he had to be much more attentive when doing his patrols as well.

It was a slow and lazy day, the children were making minor ruckuses, enchanters were researching about some discovery one of the senior enchanters made, and a few apprentices were reviewing for their classes or for their Harrowing. As a Templar, boredom while on the job is dangerous since their job was protecting these people from the world and from themselves. However, at times like these, even Greagoir might want a Maleficar to show up, just to liven up the day, or at least let that apprentice –Andy, Andrew… Cullen doesn't remember his name–try and run away again, just to be able chase him.

Cullen almost cheered when an unsteady pile of books toppled over into a bookcase (not that it was uncommon, rebellious and unruly apprentices loved toppling them.) Both shelves fell over into a chaotic heap of splintered wood and scattered books. The librarian was screeching, and an Elven apprentices were helping her fix the mess he supposedly caused. A few apprentices called the staff to remove the debris and ruined bookcase.

The librarian muttered under her breath 'Damn apprentices. Now I have to bolt all of the cases them down'. The librarian was also barking orders at the other templars and apprentices, and even those that shrunk away from her murderous rage, did what was asked.

Luckily for Cullen, he ducked behind a bookcase, and managed to be spared from the mage that seemed more horrifying than an abomination. _Not that I've ever seen one._

No matter how much the Chantry said how dangerous or terrifying mages can be, given the chance, Cullen can't help but feel sympathetic towards the elven apprentice, as he is left alone to collect the books that scattered around the floor.

The Templar padded towards the apprentice, his armored boots making loud clinks on the stone floor. The Elf barely glanced at him, and continued piling up the books in his arms then dumping them on the carts.

Cullen shifted awkwardly and cleared his throat; the sharp ears of the elf twitched. Cullen bent down, and piled a few books into the cart, as well, and helped the mage in collecting more.

Looking at the apprentice, Cullen couldn't help but notice the apprentice's deep scowl. It looks to him that Cullen's presence aggravated the Elf even more, and his scowl deepened when the Cullen began assisting him. He faced away from Cullen and continued to organize the fallen tomes, but his actions and expression showed how he hated this situation.

_Well, a mage that hates Templars, how unusual._ A small frown tugged at his lips. The older Knights did say that there are mages that dislike Templar presence… And plenty of Elves dislike humans as well.

_Well, the boy is an Elf and a mage, and I am a human and a Templar…which means twice the hostility._

Neither talked, even if all of the books were already put away safely and the scrolls were tucked away to avoid damage. Neither initiated a conversation even as the Elven librarian returned and the destroyed bookcase was disposed of.

However, when Cullen walked away, he could have sworn the Elf's gaze was following him.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Drass was back on his feet, and Cullen's regular shifts returned – which meant patrolling the halls during in the morning, the library in the afternoons, and then the quarters at evenings. All of which were in the second floor.

During Cullen's free time, he hides in an alcove near the Senior Mage Quarters, talking to Maura.

"He isn't like that… Oh well, maybe he hates everyone a little, but Lirenel isn't that bad at all!" she explained, waving her arms somewhat exaggeratedly; it made her look cute.

"I'm not saying that he's unpleasant. Maybe we got off the wrong foot, or maybe he had a bad impression of me, or he doesn't like humans and templars. I believe you, don't worry." Maura gave the redhead a hesitant smile then sighed.

Cullen had heard rumors of Surana having his Harrowing before he turns eighteen. There were other… less pleasant rumors as well.

Looking at Maura, Cullen hopes that it's not true. Anyone the young Amell associates with can't possibly be of… malicious intent.

The Templar was about to open his mouth to talk, but the sound of three bells chimed. Both sighed.

"We'll talk about this next time." Cullen nodded.

Quietly, Amell stepped out first, dodging templars and a few busy mages. Minutes passed, Cullen deemed it for him to step out, and then head over to the library for his next shift.

As Cullen walked in the circular hallway, his mind drifted. There's nothing of note happening, and any Harrowings weren't scheduled over the next three months. To sum it up, Cullen has a feeling that nothing exciting will be happening again.

Until he felt something, or someone, slam into his back, then stumble to the ground right before regaining his balance and went on running. Cullen pivoted and he fell face first with a surprised 'Oomph.' Whoever hit him is probably nursing a headache, or bruise.

He saw stars for a moment. _Who knew metal hurts when you're wearing it?_

Waiting for his vision to clear out, Cullen shifted to a kneeling position. He stood up and leaned on the stone walls of the hall, looking at the person that smacked into him. It was an apprentice, who was now unconscious.

Soon enough, metallic footsteps on stone followed, Greagoir's voice barking orders at the other templars. The apprentice was still unconscious when Greagoir laid his eyes on him, and muttering something about 'solitary confinement' and 'another escape attempt'.

Cullen decided it wasn't his business, so he tried to sneak away. Thankfully, no one notices him, and he manages to head over to the library in relative peace and silence. All the while ignoring a few curious mages seeing what the commotion is about.

Not that Cullen is looking for excitement or anything, all he can wish is for is to quietly watch and protect the mages to the best of his ability, aided by the Maker and Andraste. Though, he can't help but feel sorry for a few of the other mages that desire nothing else but freedom…

Stepping inside the library, Cullen walks towards the Templar that he is supposed to relieve –Ser Matheus– and then tapped him on the shoulder.

"You're a little late," Matheus said dryly. His helmet was off, like Cullen's, and his grey eyes are oddly pleased.

"I bumped into someone along the way," Cullen replied.

Grinning, Matheus left and quickly made way for the hall leading to the stairs.

Cullen stood at his post, watching at any signs of Blood Magic and other similar, malicious activities. The destroyed bookcase is now replaced, and the tomes it used to contain are now shelved. The debris and the scratch marks on the floors were gone as well.

He almost blanched when he saw Lirenel looking at him with a raised eyebrow, right before he turned back on his book. The Elf was sitting on one of the chairs near Cullen, surrounded by books stacked. Parchment, blank vellums, charcoal, ink bottles, and quills are scattered across the table.

The next hour was painfully quiet. Cullen tried his best not to fidget; Lirenel's presence was imposing and _cold_. Perhaps that was why Cullen never mustered the courage to talk to him when he helped the Elf some time ago.

Observing the Mage at a greater distance made the Templar aware of an air of depression that clung to the Elf. His blue eyes were just as cold, like ice. His ears were really sharp, and they twitched at the smallest of noises. Lirenel's skin was is very pale with a grayish hue, sickly even. The Elf's blonde hair is a little long and a little messy, but it did didn't fly in different directions. Lastly, Cullen can't help but notice small red lines on the back of Lirenel's hands.

Cullen frowns. _Is he… a blood mage?_ He hopes that he isn't.

Cullen would gaze around the library, always returning to Lirenel. The apprentice's eyes fast as he reads through books, his fingers swift as he took notes of every page he came across. An hour later, he had a few neatly lined parchments organized in a small pile. Piles of books are stacked as he continues to take notes, cross-referencing each time he pauses while reading.

Six bells chimed a little too early for Cullen's liking, and he wondered why he didn't notice the other two sets before it.

Taking a deep breath, and decided to not leave for a while since Maura still has her lessons, and he cannot meet her. Since there is no one around, as of yet, to take Cullen's post, the Templar gathers as much courage as he can, prays a bit to Andraste and the Maker, and walks towards the Elven Mage.

"You are a friend of Maura, right? I don't think we see much of each other… I'm Cullen by the way." Cullen gave Lirenel a soft smile, which he doesn't seem too keen on returning. He gazed at Cullen head to toe, his lips were curling downwards, but the elf managed to keep his expression blank.

"Good afternoon, my name is Lirenel Surana," the elf replies, his tone flat. He glanced back at his books and began slamming them shut one by one. The elf began piling his notes and arranging his writing materials.

Lirenel pushed his chair back, standing up briskly and pushing the chair back under the table.

"Yes?" the elf deadpanned.

Yes, that is a good question.

"About the other day… Well, er…" Eyes darting around frantically, hoping for an inspiration to strike up a conversation, Cullen's eyes landed on the books Lirinel stacked to return to their cases. "The books weren't… er… ripped or damaged heavily, right?"

Cullen wants to slap himself on the head with his shield, dig a hole, and bury this conversation forever.

The elf raised an eyebrow and his expression remaining flat. Lirenel's ear twitched a bit, then he gathered his materials.

"Thank you for the help. Forgive me if I appear ungrateful, I am still… unused to talking to Templars. Is that all?" Cullen, not knowing what to say, nods.

"Goodbye then." Lirenel gathered his materials and balancing a few tomes with rolled parchments and scrolls on both arms.

Cullen's gaze followed the smaller male, watching him exit the library and turn towards the general direction to Irving's office. Breathing deeply, he marched with heavy footsteps back to the templar quarters to rest a bit before moving on to his next shift.

As the red haired Templar walked, he can't help but feel he will be meeting Lirenel Surana more frequently in the future.


	2. II

**Author:** Kira Tamarion, once again, thanks for beta-reading this fic! I appreciate the help a lot.

Now, plenty of warnings up ahead.

**********Warnings: This story contains YAOI/SLASH (Male on Male relationships) This story contains triggers for people who are abused (Sexually, physically, emotionally). If you are uneasy about these kind of contents, I suggest to stop reading. This story will also contain (possibly in the future) mentions and/or actual abuse. If you are uneasy about that as well, I suggest to stop reading. This story isn't for the faint of heart and the tone will be darker later on.**

* * *

**Blizzard**

_Chapter Two_

The knights' entire schedule changed. Greagoir does it every three months to make sure they don't fall into a monotonous routine. Since their job is only to keep watch, it didn't make much of a difference

Except in when they have to eat, sleep, and wake up.

Cullen shifted his weight on the balls of his feet—the numbness, and the needles and pins sensations on his legs eased.

He was assigned in the Dining Hall for his afternoon shifts. He had told Maura about it, so they had to reschedule their meetings. Now, they met in the same alcove at four bells instead, an hour before Cullen's night shift at the Male Dormitories began. Sadly, Maura's classes start half an hour after the fourth bell, so their usual meetings are shorter.

For now, he could only sigh forlornly. It had been a few days since the change of shifts, and his, well… meeting the pretty Amell's elven friend, Lirenel.

As Cullen replayed the incident in his head a few hours after that, he couldn't help but feel it was such a disaster. _Ripped books, what a very engaging topic of conversation! Yeah right…_ Cullen frowned and sighed.

"Greagoir!" The templar apprentice stood as still as he could, his whole body tight and attentive. Knight-Commander Greagoir passed by the Dining Hall, arguing with Irving. However, this conversation is not as vocal as their previous arguments. When both men passed, Cullen relaxed a bit.

He looked around to see other templars relaxing now that Greagoir was gone. Ser Drass poked his head around the arch and grinned, and then he returned to his post just outside.

Thank you Drass for being a good knight, good friend, and good guard, especially the friend and guard part.

Not that Cullen takes his duty lightly, without a doubt he is doing the Maker's will, but standing around can be tedious at times, especially when there is no one to talk to.

His eyes roamed the hall, looking for suspicious activity. The only suspicious thing he can see is the large amount of dessert, and the only flesh knives are cutting through are either chicken or pork. If there is blood, an apprentice or Harrowed Mage would complain his steak isn't cooked properly.

He almost choked on his own saliva when he saw Lirenel reading as he ate. Well, more like reading while he poked his potatoes with a fork.

His armor never felt this hot, but a cold sweat broke out on Cullen's forehead. He shifted again, trying to find a good position to balance himself, but the knight can't decide what is comfortable enough. His heart felt like it was thudding against his armor, and if it weren't for his gloves, his palms would be clammy. His gaze quickly moved away from Surana, but it would quickly move back to the elf.

To his relief, the elf didn't notice him. _There are templars here every day, of course he wouldn't notice! And I have my helm on…_ He isn't worried that Lirenel is looking at him at all, nope, not at all. He isn't worried about looking like an idiot just in case Lirenel did look at him, no way, that would be strange and…

Nothing came up in Cullen's mind for the moment, but he'll think of a word for it soon enough.

Taking a deep breath, Cullen went on with his shift without trying to move much.

However, in his line of sight, Lirenel is at the very center.

Three hours before his next break and meeting with Maura. He'll survive, Cullen is sure. Not that he is danger or anything…. His thoughts must not linger to Lirene—No! He mustn't name him. He'll just call him elf. There are plenty of elves; it doesn't have to be Lir—_that_ elf. It can be any elf, just not _that_ elf.

Not that he is nervous about being distracted by the elf or anything. Or he is distracted about that elf at all. Or will that elf find him distracting and stare at him for looking stupid. Or that elf will think he is stupid and is distracting.

_Never mind_, Cullen thought exasperatedly.

Why is he worried about what Lirenel thinks about him?

'_Alright, no distractions'_, Cullen thought as he clenched his fists in determination. He can survive this shift without thinking of Lirenel. Okay, he just said that he wouldn't think of the elf! Argh! He did it again!

"Greagoir!" All of the knights in the Dining Hall quickly straightened themselves. It's just so hard looking alert if they see people eating and if a few of the knights haven't even eaten yet.

Still, Cullen is thankful for the distraction. No! He meant reminder to focus. Yes, Greagoir and Irving passed by to serve as focus away from the distraction.

When Drass poked his head out again, most relaxed. Except for Cullen.

He can live through this shift without distractions. Yes, he can do this…

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

A week passed since that day, Cullen managed to concentrate on his shift without letting his gaze land on Lirenel. All right, his gaze lands on Lirenel every now and then. Okay, that's not true either, but he would look away a few seconds afterwards. That was untrue also; he was actually staring at the elf the whole time.

Cullen frowned. Does Lirenel even eat? Each time Cullen sees him sitting on one of the tables near the windows, the elf would have a book in hand and he be playing with his food. The knight has yet to see him eat it.

Just like now.

The elf isn't really eating, like he was supposed to be doing during his lunchtime in the dining hall. Instead, Lirenel studied while playing with his food.

Two hours passed in apprentices eating, templars watching, mages conversing, and Lirenel studying and not eating. Cullen wondered if the staff noticed, or Maura and Jowan. Maybe he should talk to Maura about this. Her friend looks malnourished. Surana's cheeks aren't very hollow, but his bones are starting to show. Cullen wondered that if the elf stripped, would the bones on his back be visible and easy to count.

When three bells rang, Cullen distractedly headed back to the alcove. His mind lingered to Lirenel and seemingly physical decline. When he met Maura half an hour later, he told her about it.

"But he eats during supper." Cullen frowned, and then asked.

"How much?" Maura tapped her chin, her eyes unfocused as she paced.

"Well… not much to be truthful. Well he—"then Maura's eyes widened. Her head quickly snapped towards Cullen, her mouth hung a bit open and her hand remained suspended in the air.

"Eh?" Cullen stared at her, confused and slightly bewildered. Maura quickly snapped her mouth shut into a frown, and Cullen could see the gears in her head turning. Slowly, her lips twitched, and then it curled upwards into a big grin.

"You like him!"

Cullen's jaw dropped. _"What?_"

Maura's grin widened and then hooked her arms around Cullen. She laid her head on Cullen's shoulder and she sighed softly yet deliberately.

"I should have known. You ask about him every time, and now you're worried! You're in love Cullen! And I will do the best I can to help!" Cullen didn't understand what Maura was saying. It sounds a lot like Tevinter in his ears, Elven even…

"What?" he asked again. Maura giggled, and released her hold on his arm.

"Don't worry, I'll feed 'Nel for you _and_ I'll be sure to tell him you were worried enough to ask me." Maura was about to skip away, but Cullen stopped her.

"_No!_ Don't—I mean, don't mention me to him… I uh… Templars aren't really supposed to be friends with mages, and uh… er… Greagoir says we shouldn't care too much, I mean he should know he isn't eating, right? I uhh… The other templars won't like it, and uh… er." The apprentice's eyebrow is raised, her lips are pursed and her hands are on her hips.

Maura snorted, "Sure, let's go with that. So—"

Four bells rang.

Maura smiled, and Cullen did not like it at all. There was something sinister behind it, and Cullen wondered if it's still Maura or if a demon replaced the girl.

Cullen was about to pull her back, but she quickly dodged his hand and ran off, headed towards her next class.

The blood in the knight's face drained, he realized a lot of important things he should have said.

One of those important things is that he did not deny that he liked or disliked Lirenel Surana.

_Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!_

When Drass asked why his forehead was so red, Cullen told him he tripped.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Lirenel is having a relatively good day. The templars aren't very moody today, and the library seems quieter than before. Jowan is still having trouble in his Elemental Mastery, Maura is improving on her Healing Spells, and his progress on Spirit Mastery is improving as well.

The elf is also glad for the lack of Cullen in the library. The initiate is very clumsy and he won't stop staring at him.

_Bile began to rise in his throat, tears burned behind his eyes, and Maker no—make it stop, make it stop, make it—_

Shaking his head, Lirenel picked up his writing materials and gathered them into a pile. It was his lunchtime, and the hall should have fewer mages by now.

As he walked, his mind drifted off. Lirenel's morning is very hectic, but he actually has plenty of free time in the afternoon. Then two more classes for the evening, and then that will be all for the day.

_When night falls, the beast comes and goes. But he knows the beast is always there, always watching and never resting. The beast calls to him when no one sees, and he follows unseen. The beast takes and ravishes everything; he revels in the fear, in the anger, in the lust, he—_

Lirenel clenched his fists. He should be scheduled for his Harrowing soon, preparing for it is the best course of action. His healing spells needed improvement, his Entropy spells are also horrible, and he needs to study more about Spirit Healing in case it's part of the Harrowing.

The elf has plenty of free time, and studying in the dining hall had become a recent habit of his.

_It was so sweet. The taste lingered on his mouth and slid on his throat smoothly. It was a strange thing, but he is thankful. He smiles hesitantly, but his expression quickly turns into horror. There was pain on his mouth, his throat, and it burned all the way from his chest then to his stomach. He couldn't feel his limbs, he wanted to scream for help, but he can't move. His whole body is frozen, and he prayed for someone to notice, someone to save him. Then something burned from the pit of his stomach, and bile wanted to rise up his throat. Shame and horror filled him, and he could see the world spinning before his eyes. Maker, he doesn't want this, someone please help. No, no, no, no, pleasenodon'tdothishelpmeanyonesavemeIdon'twantthishelp—_

The mage's dining hall is on the first floor, and the walk from the library after his lesson with Irving took a while. He dropped his books on a table in a distant corner of the hall and quickly stood on the queue in front of the counter. When it was Lirenel's turn, he asked for his usual meal: potatoes, a few slices of carrots, peas, and a bowl of sweetened fruit.

He never liked meat. He prefers fish and vegetables. The idea of raising animals, and then slaughtering them had always disturbed Lirenel ever since he was young. Even before he was taken to the Circle, he could remember refusing meat, even if it was rare to eat it in the Alienage.

The tray is light, so he had no trouble at all walking towards the table he reserved for himself. After putting the tray down, Lirenel grabbed one of his books and began to read.

The Fade had always fascinated Lirenel. Of course, even if mages are beacons for demons to possess so that they may cross into the mortal realm, studying Fade Spirits is a better topic. There is of course, a small possibility on a subject the elf had always been curious of: Can spirits inhabit mortals like demons? Would they be corrupted should they try? Is it reversible?

There are plenty of other questions Lirenel has in mind as well, but he believes it's a topic for another day.

Idly poking at his potatoes, Lirenel wondered if Maura still has her old notes on Herbalism and how some plants react to lyrium. He had been researching this for a while, wondering what kind of plant can have traces of lyrium and bear its effects.

Lirenel picked up a new book and flipped it over to a page he dog-eared. He grabbed some of the parchment containing his notes and continued on one of his projects. It was an essay regarding Blood Magic that Uldred assigned.

Lirenel frowned; Maura mentioned there are rumors flying about. The most infamous one was about him dabbling in Blood Magic.

_The blade left a trail of blood, and it dripped on the floor like a weak drizzle of red. He heard the knife clatter on the floor, plopping over the puddle of blood that formed. His whole body was shaking, and he was sure he was sobbing, and crying, and begging for the beast_ _to stop. But the beast doesn't, the beast wouldn't. _His_ voice was warm against his ear, and his body was warm. Heat pooled at the pit of his stomach and bile rose up in his throat again. The beast was still whispering, and he can feel a tongue tracing the shell of his ear. Then teeth nibbled on his near, and it traced his jaw, then the back of his neck. _The beast_ was nipping and sucking, and he shuddered when _his_ breath tickled his back. A hand held his chest, trailing over his bare skin. The beast's fingers traced his chest and pinched his nipples, he felt them hardening as _he_ gave them equal attention. Then _he_ was whispering again, _his_ hand was rubbing circles on his hips. He couldn't hear what _he_ was saying; he can only stare at the bigger hands that held his wrists. His arms were red in blood, and the wounds stung, and he could feel _the beast_ other hand getting lower, and lower, and lower, and lower, and—_

"Nel!" The elf almost jumped.

He turned towards Amell, glaring at her. She smiled in return, and then her gaze landed on his uneaten food.

"Tsk. Tsk. A lot of people starve in the world every day, but here you are. You have food, but you aren't eating it. You should be more thankful for your blessings, the Maker wouldn't want his children starving, now would he?" Maura wagged her finger in the air.

Lirenel rolled his eyes, "I will be eating; don't worry about it." He made a motion to wave her off.

"Ah, but I have someone checking up on you every now and then," Lirenel raised an eyebrow, "you have been a very bad boy 'Nel. You shou—"

"_And here is your punishment…"_

"_Please no! I promise I'll be good! Please, don't! I—"_

"_Shut up!"_

_Thwack!_

_There was sobbing, then _he _shuffled closer to him._

"_What I'm doing is for your own good," _he _embraces him comfortingly, "I only want to protect you. If you do what I say, your punishment won't be that bad. In fact, you might even enjoy it…"_

"—listening?" Lirenel nods, his face was ashen than the usual.

Maura frowned; worry is evident on her face. She sat down beside Lirenel and scooted towards him, draping an arm across his shoulders. Surana flinched and looked away, and that made Maura worry even more.

"Did... something happen?" Maura asked in a soft voice. Lirenel cracked a smile, his shoulders are stiff and his body is tense.

"I'm alright, I… I don' have much of an appetite." He clenched his fists.

"Nel, if there is something wrong, maybe you should talk to Irvi—" Lirenel shot up, glaring angrily at Maura.

"I don't need any help!" he snarled. Maura stared at him, her eyes were wide and her mouth hung open in shock. Then tears began to form in her eyes and she wiped them away.

Lirenel's eyes widened as well, he didn't mean to shout at her. Everyone was looking at them, mages and templars alike. Lirenel sat down, the onlookers didn't turn away immediately, but then they did, one by one.

Sighing, he tentatively draped an arm over Maura and held her close.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have shouted at you."

She sniffed. "It's okay. That's how people react when others are prying too much."

Lirenel quickly felt guilty. He couldn't take looking at her anymore, and he felt shame burning in his stomach again.

"I…" he sighed again, "I don't have a problem. I'm just stressed. That's all. My Harrowing is near." Maura gives him a long stare, and he could tell that she doesn't believe him.

Slowly, she nods and stands up. She accepted his explanation, for now.

"If you need help, I will always be here. If you don't ask help from anyone, you'll regret it. I will always be your friend." Lirenel nods, happy that she will help him when he needs it, disheartened because he is sure she wouldn't understand, and frustrated that he can't tell her everything.

He looks away; he can't meet her gaze. She is too good for him, too pure.

As for him, he had always been tainted. He doesn't deserve people like Maura.

"_You've been staring at that initiate, Cullen." He shifts and looks away, not meeting _his_ gaze._

_Thwack!_

"_Remember this: No matter what you do or how hard you try, no one will want you. No one will bother with you. You're just trash, a waste of space. Should anyone know of our… _arrangement_, they will kill you and desecrate you. No one will miss you. Everyone _will_ know that you _deserve_ it. You're a horrible, horrible, filthy creature." _He_ took a deep breath and gripped his chin. _He_ held his face intimately; _his _lips were so close, as if _he _wants to kiss him._

"_Not even Cullen would want you."_


	3. III

**Notes: **Once again, I would love to thank Kira Tamarion for beta-reading this fic. She is one awesome beta-reader! XD

******Warnings: This story contains YAOI/SLASH (Male on Male relationships) This story contains triggers for people who are abused (Sexually, physically, emotionally). If you are uneasy about these kind of contents, I suggest to stop reading. This story will also contain (possibly in the future) mentions and/or actual abuse. If you are uneasy about that as well, I suggest to stop reading. This story isn't for the faint of heart and the tone will be darker later on.**

******Enjoy.**

* * *

**Blizzard**

_Chapter Three_

His morning shifts are in the Halls, on the second floor near the storerooms and the laboratory. He sees knights, apprentices, enchanters, senior enchanters, and Irving and Greagoir come and go. For now, his shift is nearing its end and he would be making his way to the Dining Hall.

It's been a week since Cullen talked to Maura about Lirenel's eating habits, however he did see the elf sneaking into the kitchens when he would head to the Dining Hall for his afternoon shifts. The gauntness in Surana's cheeks is slowly fading, and Cullen is already optimistic about that progress. That relieved him, but he can't shake the feeling that something is wrong about the situation.

He did talk to Maura about it. Now he wants to forget it.

Ever since the knight told Amell about Lirenel's avoidance of food, she had been 'nudging' him to court Lirenel. She pestered him about Lirenel for days, their topics stayed on that and Cullen could only sigh in exasperation when he told tell her it's nothing like what she thinks. Maura only smiled and told him that he's still in denial and he will 'come around it soon enough'.

Women.

Shaking his head, Cullen thought of the mage that loves making escape attempts. His solitary confinement was cut short due to good behavior. However, Greagoir had been looking at the mage suspiciously, waiting for another attempt. Should that mage escape again, he would put to a year-long solitary confinement in his old cell.

Cullen frowned. That seems… a little cruel. No, that _is_ cruel. Didn't the Chantry forbid slavery and ill treatment of other people? Then why do mages…

The templar shook his head; the Chantry must have its reasons. It was proven time and again. Their methodology for protecting the mages isn't questioned. Mages are in constant danger, and it's the Order's job to protect them, and others.

But outright cruelty and labeling mages as monsters, waiting to be unleashed, seems… extreme.

His next shift begins in twelve bells, and he still has approximately an hour to go. Cullen shifted a bit when the hall cleared out.

No one present except him and fellow templars. The mages are probably in the library, in classes, at the laboratory, or the dining hall.

When a flash of blonde hair entered Cullen's field of vision, his gaze instinctively followed it. He wanted to sigh when he found out it was only another apprentice; a human apprentice.

Now Cullen wanted to smack his forehead on the wall again. He doesn't really have a to be disappointed that it wasn't a blonde haired elf that passed by, now does he?

Does he really?

His head throbbed with the beginnings of a headache. It now looked complicated, and Cullen wondered if the lyrium finally fried his brain.

He can't possible have a crush on… a boy. Shouldn't men be attracted to women? Besides, he took a vow of chastity; Cullen can't possibly entertain this…. Crush or desire. Whatever it is.

The thought of Lirenel kissing another apprentice flashed in Cullen's head, he was suddenly alarmed and scared. That doesn't look right to him at all!

Maker, he doesn't know what to do. Is that why he can't talk to Lirenel without making a fool out of himself? Is that also why he cares so much?

He can't really entertain this. Greagoir would be disappointed, and so would be the other templars. Mages and templars aren't even supposed to be friends! Guilt wrenched Cullen.

He shouldn't even be friends with Maura, but he is. He shouldn't even have a crush on Lirenel Surana…

But he does.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

He bumped to someone while leaving the dining hall.

Alarm bells began to ring inside Cullen's head, and the urge to run and hide was the first to come in mind.

'_Do not falter,'_ Cullen reminded himself_._ He forced to meet the victim's gaze and smiled.

His smile looks like a pained wince.

"I'm sorry about that, I… er… Here! Let me help!" Cullen wanted to bash his head on a nearby wall. Why can't he talk like a decent, polite, and charming Templar?

"That's okay." Lirenel's tone is flat; Cullen really shouldn't be surprised.

The knight picked up the heap of books and parchments Lirenel dropped and balanced them in his hands. Lirenel frowned, his eyebrows were furrowed together, and his ears twitched. "You don't have to carry all of them," he said. Confusion is evident in his tone.

Cullen smiled at him, it looked nervous. "It's alright. I… er… bumped into you. So it's my fault, really! I should help." His communication skills are still a wreck, but he is working on it.

Surana's frown deepened, but he made no more protests. "I'm going back to the dormitories. Will you really carry these for me?"

"It's no problem at all." Cullen gave himself a mental pat on the back. "Besides, my next shift starts in an hour, so I'm not immediately needed somewhere." He didn't stammer. That's good.

The elf nodded and let Cullen lead the way. He kept quiet while they walked, but Cullen doesn't like the awkward silence. He is going to make an effort this time, and talk to this lonely elf.

Personal questions would be creepy, Cullen decided. So he asked something simple, one he is sure that it won't be controversial for either side. He isn't trying to chase Lirenel away now, does he?

"So, how did you meet Maura?" That is a good enough question. They both know Maura, and they both know the other is friends with her. A common ground to start with then.

"Herbalism lesson." Cullen schooled his features into a blank expression.

That wasn't very insightful, but a short answer is better than no-answer at all.

"Oh. How old were you then?"

"Eight."

"I see."

Moments passed and Cullen kept on asking questions he guessed were not too personal. Lirenel would reply in short and terse answers at first, but Cullen wouldn't stop pestering him so the elf indulged the knight every now and then with longer answers. When Cullen would ask something that Lirenel isn't very comfortable with, he would tell only tell Cullen it was none of his business. Cullen wouldn't pry if Lirenel replies like that, so he moves on to another question instead.

Soon enough, Lirenel began to ask questions as well.

"How did you meet Maura?" Cullen smiled, and he let himself lose in the memories of meeting Maura Amell.

"I bumped to her on the way to the library. Then we would bump to each other every now and then. We talked, and we still do, but it's mostly about other mages and templars. Sometimes, we talk about the Tower, Ferelden, Andraste, the Chantry, and other things. That was a year and a half ago I think." Cullen wanted to stroke his stubble in thought, but his hands are full.

"You like her then?"

"Yes."

"Ah, so you're together then."

Cullen almost tripped, the image of him kissing Maura popped into his head. It looks so wrong and awkward in his head, and definitely will never happen any time in the future. Unable to stop himself, Cullen suddenly burst out laughing, but he quickly regained his balance and smothered his humor. "No! It's nothing like that. We're just friends. I… We're just good friends, I don't see her that way."

Lirenel quickly halted, and so did Cullen. The elf was staring at him the same way as he did when he first met him. Surana looked at Cullen head to toe then shook his head. "I see… Well, both of you were close, so I had assumed that– "

"We're together? Maker no! She's a lot like a sister to me." Thinking about it, Cullen knew his words to be true. He just can't see Maura as someone he would have a relationship with. They have many similarities, true, but she reminded Cullen more of his family than anything else.

Cold began to seep into his stomach at the thought of his family. A frown suddenly etched on his face and Lirenel's eyes widened a bit.

"Did I say something wrong?" Cullen shook his head.

"It's nothing… I just… Well… It's alright, we should go on."

Cullen reminded himself that when he gets back to his room after his last shift, Cullen should send a letter to his family to tell them he misses them.

Especially his sister.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Before the two could arrive at the dormitories, Cullen realized that this is where his next shift should start. Both hid in a corner when more templars came into sight. Cullen returned Lirenel's items and the elf left quickly, Cullen followed a minute later.

When he arrived back at the dormitories, five bells already rang and his next shift was about to begin. He saw Lirenel opening a chest in front of one of the bunks close to the wall next to the door . The elf was organizing his notes and keeping the ones he seemed to not need inside the chest.

When Lirenel saw Cullen enter, the elf gave the older man a raised eyebrow. Cullen subtly replied by pointing his finger at one of the templars ready to leave guard. Lirenel then shrugged and grabbed a robe and other unmentionables from his chest and hurried to the chambers.

Cullen quickly relieved one of the templars of their position, and stood guard. However, his mind wasn't focused on his duty. Instead, Cullen found himself focusing on an image that popped into his when he saw Lirenel taking out another robe.

Heat rose up in his cheeks at the thought, and he found himself not hating it. In fact, it felt… nice.

The image of pale and flawless skin, wet and flushed. Pale lips slightly parted and dainty hands explored a delicate torso. Blonde hair messed and blue eyes a little glazed. Dainty feet resting on the edge of the tub, knees drawn up and the water can barely cover a—

Blood rushed to Cullen's cheeks, and sweat formed in his forehead. Heat pooled at the pit of his stomach and it reached lower, and lower, and lower and he felt _it_ rise and throb in anticipation. He couldn't quite complete the image in his head. However, Cullen is afraid that once he does, he won't be having a good night's sleep.

Since elves doesn't seem to grow hair anywhere else other than their lashes, head, and brows, Cullen wondered if they have hair on their—No! No! No! Not now, he is still on duty!

He suddenly wanted to sigh miserably; the image of Lirenel taking a bath burned a picture in his head.

If he ever tells that to Greagoir or to the Revered Mother, they would both be horrified and call him dirty. However, knowing a few other… open mages and templars here and there, they would have called it mild.

Still, Cullen can't help but feel guilty for thinking about Lirenel in that way.

Though, he still has other things to ponder. With that, he felt the heat in his stomach cool down, but it was a little painful and sudden. Cullen felt as if ice-cold water was doused on him and he knows that he needs to face what he feels.

For one, he could now see that he does like Lirenel Surana.

Now that he thought about it, it felt… good, as if a weight was lifted and his mind cleared. Then a new weight settled and a different kind of confusion took its' place. For one, now that Cullen is aware that he has a crush on the elf, he has no idea how to interact like a normal person and, theoretically make his feelings on the situation apparent. He would not know how his peers and Lirenel's peers would react. And, he has no idea what he could possibly want from Lirenel.

Sex? Attention? Love?

Cullen isn't sure, and he is afraid to find that out. However, that doesn't mean he will not try.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Who knew even men take hour-long baths? By the time Lirenel stepped out of the chambers, four hours already passed.

What Cullen hated the most about his night shifts is this: he sleeps only a few hours after midnight. The only upside is that his morning shifts begin at the ninth hour, but the late-night sleeping routine is a nightmare. However, Cullen would doze off a bit when he is sure that the night is high and snores from the apprentices would fill the hall. Other than that, Cullen is still adjusting to his shift.

Lirenel stepped outside the bathing chambers, dressed only in sleeping robes, the robe he wore for the day and small clothes were all folded neatly in a laundry basket. Cullen's mouth felt dry, and he could hear his heart thumping inside his armor. The armor had never been this hot, and Cullen could feel blood rushing to his cheeks and down below his belt.

Tearing his gaze away, Cullen decided to stare at the doors instead. Yet in his field of vision, he can see the blonde haired elf picking up his reading materials and piling them on his bed. The lights were on until the tenth bell, and when the whole tower darkened, Lirenel returned his books to his chest.

So Cullen stood vigilant, his eyes never away from the mages. Snores began to fill the room, and much to Cullen's horror, a few templars took this as their chance to catch on to their sleep.

'_Looks like I'm not the only one_,' he thought, shaking his head.

Then there was shifting, but Cullen couldn't make out who or what it is. The quarters are dark, the windows are closed around eight because icy drafts would enter the room. A few years back, complaints like that piled up in Irving's office until it was decided to just close the windows. No one complained about the temperature after that.

Letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, Cullen could see the shifting came from Surana's bed. Cullen was about to call the attention of the other five templars on guard with him, but a sudden wave of sleepiness hit him. He raised his hands to cleanse the area, but the sleepiness pervaded. His whole body relaxed and sleep is becoming more and more of a good idea.

_Rest, you deserve it…_

He sure does. He can look forward to meeting Lirenel in the morn—

Cullen's eyes snapped open, the dormitories are still flooded in darkness, and then three bells rang. Mages would sometimes use sleeping draughts or spells to keep them from waking up when the tower's bells would ring. His fellow templars were dozing as well.

Alarmed, Cullen grabbed a candle from one of the drawers, stumbling as he did so, and lit it. He quickly raised it and subtly made his way to Lirenel's bed. The apprentice lied there, curled in a fetal position, his expression was stressed, and his forehead was lined with sweat. His breathing was ragged, and Lirenel must have kicked off his blankets sometime earlier, and now they were beside his chest on the floor. His robes were pulling up, displaying a bit of his legs for anyone awake to see.

Cullen blushed, his gaze began from the tip of the elf's toes, then to his ankles, then to his pale and supple legs, then to his light sleeping robe, then to his huddled shoulders, then to both hands on top of his pillow, and then to Lirenel's stressed face. His brows were furrowed, his mouth was set into a deep frown, and unshed tears glistened in his lashes. Surana was shivering and huddled closer into himself for comfort. Cullen frowned.

Nightmares are more common to mages due to their ability to be awake in the Fade. Mages with nightmares become much more open to demons, and they are in great danger of possession. Cullen hopes that Lirenel will stay strong.

Cullen turned the light of his candle off and placed it on Lirenel's chest, and then picked up Lirenel's blanket. He draped it over Lirenel, the shivering stopped, but the elf still is uneasy in his sleep. Even if the hall is now shrouded in darkness, Cullen can still see the area around Lirenel's bed.

Lirenel whimpered and a few droplets of tears trailed down to the side of his face. Cullen breathed deeply; he wiped the tears off with his thumb. The elf whimpered and curled into himself. Cullen's heart felt heavy and pity settled at the deep in his gut.

Offering a bit of comfort to the apprentice, Cullen sat on the edge of the elf's bed and squeezed one of his hands. He frowned, the apprentice was just so cold, icy even. Cullen's hands were warm, thanks to his gloves. With that bit of warmth, the templar shared it with the cold mage.

Cullen stayed like that for a few more moments, one hand held Lirenel's in comfort, and the other brushed his hair. Soon enough, the frown on the mage's face eased and the lines on his face melted away. The gauntness isn't present anymore, and now that his duress is over, the apprentice looks younger now that the stress is gone on his face. There was a softness to his face that Cullen found endearing.

'_He looks innocent in his sleep,'_ Cullen thought. He didn't want to leave so soon, now that he can enjoy this silent act of offering comfort.

However, he still has duties as a templar that needs to be attended, and his fellow knights will not want him associating with mages.

Sighing, Cullen reluctantly let go of Lirenel's hand and with great effort, stood up from his bed. He didn't know how long he stayed by Lirenel's side, but he found himself wanting for more time together.

When Cullen left the dormitories, it was with a heavy heart yet with a great sense of contentment.

When he offered comfort to the elf, it was very enlightening. There was joy to seeing the distress on Lirenel's face melt away into peace, made him happy. Surana doesn't smile, Cullen noted long ago ever since he met Lirenel. The apprentice usually has a scowl or a forced blank expression on his face whenever he sees him. When he saw the peace take them away, the knight wondered what would it be like to see the elf smile.

Cullen didn't find the idea bad at all.

When he returned to his dormitories that night, Cullen slept with peace and a renewed sense of determination to find more about Lirenel Surana.


	4. IV

**Notes: **Once again, I would love to thank Kira Tamarion for beta-reading this fic. She is one awesome beta-reader! XD Also thank you Ventisquear for your lovely reviews~ XD I really appreciate them!

Well, things are going to pick up at this point. Chapter 5 will be something like a sneak peek in Lirenel's point of view. Chapter 6 is where the action/drama begins. *Grins*

To out usual warnings...

**Warnings: This story contains YAOI/SLASH (Male on Male relationships) This story contains triggers for people who are abused (Sexually, physically, emotionally). If you are uneasy about these kind of contents, I suggest to stop reading. This story will also contain (possibly in the future) mentions and/or actual abuse. If you are uneasy about that as well, I suggest to stop reading. This story isn't for the faint of heart and the tone will be darker later on.**

**Enjoy.**

**Blizzard**

_Chapter Four_

Bookshelves are bolted on the ceiling, and the books are all open while they're attached on the walls. The Tower's doors are open, the windows had slides leading to the lake, and the floor is made of glass. Tables are crawling on the floor, and the chairs are flipping around lazily.

Maura is talking to Cullen, and she is saying something he can't hear. Templars and apprentices are all crammed in the room, the staff is bringing plates piled high with sweets and they would leave with empty ones, and there are a few dwarves chugging booze and passing them around.

Cullen can't hear what Maura is saying, music and general chatter overcame her voice. Cullen could see the First Enchanter and the Knight Commander, and they look like they are having a good time. Uldred is talking with a few templars, Niall is surrounded by women hanging on to his every word, and Eadric held hands with a human.

Cullen frowned; the day seems strange.

The whole world's color seems a little washed-off, but, for some reason, there is a strange quality or intensity that made Cullen's surroundings seem brighter and livelier. It feels as if he is seeing the world for the first time, without the limits of physics, the Maker, created.

Templars and mages surround Cullen, and he can see smiles of satisfaction on their faces. As if there is nothing wrong in the world.

A flash of gold caught his eyes and Cullen excused himself away from Maura. He bumped into a few Templars and mages, and he would give a brief apology as he followed the head of blonde. More people blocked his way, but he did not give up.

The classrooms are strangely empty; chairs and tables are bolted on the ceiling, bookshelves are lying on the floors and are bolted, and the books are floating lazily. Unlike the previous room, the classrooms are cold. The air is frigid, Cullen's breath misted, bits of frost cling on the glass of the windows, and a thick sheet of ice covers the floor.

The templar reached for one of the books and flipped it open. The pages are blank, then the book started to struggle and shake violently, as Cullen held it. Frowning, he let it go.

Cullen neared one of the bookshelves, there were books inside them too, but they were stacked with the front pages facing up. Cullen picked up a book and slowly opened it, half-expecting it to struggle. When it didn't, he took a peek on the pages.

The contents of the books are confusing. It's not empty, but paragraphs overlap paragraphs, making the words hard to read. However, there are hastily scrawled notes in the margins, but they are so small and messy to read without squinting.

Cullen narrowed his eyes, intrigued.

'—_not true—is different. –can't be possible, he is always—not the same—'m a fool—the only one he—He wasn't like—what happened? He touched—he didn't listen! He doesn't—anymore! He always takes—he doesn't like to see me talking with—he's the reason why—Why is he doing this to me? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? WHY? WHY? WHY? Wh—'_

"_**What have you done?"**_ With a shocked yell, Cullen threw the book away.

Cullen's heart was beating loudly against his chest, almost painfully, his hands are cold and clammy, and sweat is dripping down Cullen's forehead. His pupils are dilated in fear, and his breaths are short and came out in heavy pants. The knight's while body is shaking and his knees feel like they would give out any time now. But they didn't.

Taking a few moments to take deep breath and compose himself. He thought over what happened, and it was downright terrifying.

Cullen has no idea what demons look and or sound like, but if he's going to describe the voice in one word, demonic is sure to come into mind. For a moment, he felt… emotions, memories, not his own and it scares him.

He could feel burning anger and desire for vengeance, that is not his own, and then there was confusion and self-loathing. If he thought it couldn't get any worse, warmth bloomed in his chest, but Cullen knows it's not his. Heat pooled at the pit of his stomach and travelled in his veins, but confusion and fear gnawed at him, and anger coursed in his veins again. There was just so much hatred that it left the templar dizzy and his knees finally gave out. He could hear voices, but one voice was louder than the rest. He gritted his teeth and tried to claw it his scalp, hoping, _praying_ it will go away. Cullen cried out, his brain felt as if it is smashed by a mace and the urges were horrible. The urge to _hurt_ and do it in the most painful way possible to a fellow human, overwhelmed Cullen, the desire—the _need _to cause pain and suffering is there, but it's not directed at templars, mages, or humans. For a moment, Cullen thought it was his own, but deep inside him, he knew it to be untrue. A face blurred in his mind's eye, and he is certain that he recognized this man. He tries to grasp at that bit of familiarity, hoping to know who this is. However, the memory won't solidify, and Cullen felt as if he was grasping at straws.

Just as quick as they came, the emotions began to fade away. The sensations they left in the man gone as well, but Cullen could feel an inkling of it, a small spark of anger, warmth, and fear. And he held on to it, he clung to the memory as if it was a lifeline and did not let go. When he was sure that the memory won't be lost soon, Cullen deemed it safe to compose himself and find out what happened and why; and when the world stopped spinning, Cullen shifted on one knee and stood up. He brushed off the bits of snow that clung to his armor. A taste of bitterness lingered in Cullen's mouth and he remembered what he is doing in the classrooms and why.

The red head gazed around the classroom. The ice on the floor turned into jagged icicles that reached the ceiling. The air is freezing and snow hid the bookshelves.

Snow crunched and Cullen's head snapped to the side. He managed to see a fleeting flash of blue robes by the icicles that lead to the stairs to the second floor. Warily, he followed whoever it was that was watching him and hoped that it wasn't a demon.

Cullen blanched when he saw bloody footsteps leading to the stairs. With narrowed eyes, the templar followed whoever it was, dodging the footsteps as he made his way.

The man expected to see the storerooms, and much to his surprise, the templar quarters was in sight.

He didn't like this, whatever this is. The walls are all torn down, leaving every room exposed except for one. Ice and snow covered every inch of the floor, and the stairs that are supposed to lead to the Harrowing Chamber are gone.

Cullen jumped back when he felt the ground began to rumble. The stairs going down crumbled, leaving frosted debris over the snow-covered the floor. The templar stepped away from the door and continued on his task of finding out who is watching him. The one room that was left with walls intact is on the farthest side of the floor. With a deep breath, Cullen followed the footsteps that led to it.

The air is frigid and it was blowing Cullen away. It felt a mage casted a blizzard on the floor and made sure it never ended. The templar tried to cleanse it, dispel the area even, but it did not dissipate. In fact, it only got _worse_.

Gritting his teeth, Cullen trudged on, braving the snow, storm, and cold. The door leading him to his destination seems so far away, but Cullen believes he can make it. He _knows_ he _will_ make it. He only needs to try harder.

Sheer determination kept him going, and he did. His boots would sink in the snow, and pulling them out on each step becomes harder and harder. Willpower kept him from faltering, and on each step he would renew his resolve as the hope to reach the end becomes greater and greater.

The moments that ticked felt like an eternity to Cullen, but he felt that it was worth it. The door to the room is right in front of him, and the bloody footsteps led inside.

Grasping the handle, Cullen was about to slam the door open, but a pale hand stopped him.

He looked to his left to see a pale face, framed with messy blonde hair, large blue eyes with dark circles beneath it, long and pointed ears, and a blank look gives his way. _An elf…_

"Save me."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Cullen jolted up from his sleep, panting.

_What in the Maker's breath was _that_?_ He wiped the sweat off his face and slumped down on his bed again, confused. He lied still, letting his wildly beating heart to calm down. Soon enough, his heart returned to a normal pace, and then Cullen stared upwards, his eyes beginning to adjust to the darkness of his room. A cool draft is entering the room through the open window.

The dream that woke him up seemed vivid and real, yet the details are now starting to escape him; bits and pieces are disappearing when he tried to remember them. The memories began to blur, and only a few images now remained.

Sighing, Cullen ran a hand over his wet hair and let his arm flop back down. He tried drifting back to his sleep, but there is a buzz at the very back of his mind. For one thing, he can't stop thinking about his dream. For another, he can feel fleeting fragments of some emotions. Anger and fear at the very forefront, then there is confusion mixing in as well. Another thing is the last he had seen in his dream.

He is definitely sure he had seen Lirenel Surana in his dream, and the elf's last words still echoed in his thoughts.

"_Save me."_

What does that mean? Is Surana in some sort of trouble? With the templars? With mages then?

Then again, it _is_ a dream. It probably doesn't mean anything at all. Fade or not, it can't possibly be the work of Demons.

_There are maleficars though. _Cullen frowned. _That's not very assuring…_

He could always ask Maura.

Shutting his eyes, Cullen forced himself to relax and go back to sleep.

Five bells rang and Cullen groaned. _Might as well go down… _

Dragging his blankets off, Cullen started on fixing his bed. He finished his morning rituals and began to put on his armor.

After making sure that he is presentable, Cullen left his room and made sure he locked the door properly. He made his way to the Templar Dining Hall, knowing that a few cooks already cooked a few things for Templars with late-night and early-morning shifts.

Cullen bumped into a few Templars returning from their early-morning shifts, he greeted a few, and entered the dining hall alone. A few templars were in the hall at this hour, most were eating alone or with a few friends, only one table was full.

Taking a tray with a plate of eggs, broth, warm ale, and cottage pie, Cullen settled on one of the tables, eating in solitude. After finishing his meal, Cullen decided to explore the tower while it was still early.

His first shift is still a few hours away, and going back to sleep seem useless to him. Eating at a slow pace, Cullen wondered if when will see Maura or Lirenel at this hour.

He quickly brushed off that thought, of course he wouldn't. The two would still be asleep at this hour, and classes start at the nine, so no reason to seek them out.

Though, he can't stop but wonder why he ended up walking in the empty library. The door was unlocked but a pair of templars guarded it, they let him in without asking. The tables and shelves were bolted on the floor, and a few piles of books littered the floor. Cullen frowned, is the librarian not worried about her precious books gathering dust?

Walking towards the nearest pile, Cullen picked a tome. It was thick and the pages were nearly falling apart. Frowning, he tried to read a few doodles on the margins.

"_Ser Pounce-a-lot stands victorious! Ser Pounce-a-lot swiped them with a might blow! Ser Pounce-a-lot defeats the mighty Greagoir!"_ A tiger swiping through chunks of templars is crudely drawn on the pages. Cullen's lips twitched, then he returned the tome back on top of the pile.

Shaking his head, Cullen went on to another pile instead.

"_Beyond the Fade: A Study of How the Fade Affects Our Realm." _Cullen flipped the book open.

Notes were written in the margins, they were very small and cramped. Cullen can barely read the tiny scrawls and he squinted to see more of the passages. He realized that the words were not written in the Common Tongue, it was written in a language that seemed vaguely Tevinter to him.

Snapping the book shut, Cullen returned it back to the pile. He decided to head to the classrooms instead and wait for his shift to start.

When he was about to leave, he bumped to a mage along the way. The person lost his balance and he was about to fall flat on his butt on the floor, but Cullen quickly grabbed the front of his robes, steadying the other. He lost his grip when he saw who it was.

"Lirenel! You're early!" Cullen gaped, he didn't expect the elf to be up this early.

Brushing off his robes, Lirenel stared at the older man with an eyebrow raised.

"Is it wrong to be awake early?" Cullen shook his head.

Smiling, Cullen decided that waiting for his next shift might not happen at all.

"No, no. Nothing wrong with waking up early. I was uhhh…" Damn you stammers. "why are you in the library? Other than to read of course! Isn't that a little too early? Not that its bad or anything… Well, I… er… Didn't expect you here."

"_Maker, I ask you to judge me with your endless pride and punish me accordingly for my sins, as long as you answer my question. Why does my mind and mouth do not work cooperatively when I'm talking to Lirenel Surana?"_ And here Cullen thought the two finally found common ground when he talked to the elf two days ago when he accompanied him to the dormitories. Seems like he would need to get used to the idea of talking to Lirenel and try not to stammer as much.

"I'm always here at this hour." Lirenel had a small smile on his lips. The elf had a satchel with him, and then he began taking out a few small books, quills, parchment, and ink bottles. He piled his materials on a nearby table.

Cullen leaned on a nearby shelf, watching the elf methodically carry a pile towards his table.

"Don't try to get near the piles. The one to your left is Anders'; to your right is Eadric's." Cullen stared at Lirenel, confused.

"Huh?" was Cullen's intelligent reply.

"Each of the piles here has a certain owner. If a mage does not want anyone touching a certain book because they're not yet finished with it, they make a pile on the floor. They tell the librarian which is theirs and we get notices on who owns which." Oh. That made a bit of sense.

"Wouldn't Enchanter Ira… get mad? Isn't she crazy about taking care of books?"

"She is. As long as we take care of the books she lets us. As long as there is no damage, crumples, torn pages, and vandalism."

"Then why are your books full of extra notes on the margins?"

"As long as it is intelligent research, then it's fine." Lirenel's eyes were on his papers, taking notes once again. Cullen picked up the tome with the Ser Pounce-a-lot doodles. He walked right in front of the table Lirenel occupied. The elf looked up, looking at Cullen with a bored expression.

"How do you explain this?" He flipped the book open, showing the tiger attacking and slaying templars.

"It wasn't me I swear!" Lirenel said in a quiet laugh, and then he looked back at Cullen. He smile, and then something caught inside the templar's throat as he gazed at the hints of amusement in Lirenel's eyes.

His teeth were a little crooked, but Cullen thought it doesn't look bad at all. They weren't blindingly white, but they were obviously clean and well-taken care off. Then Lirenel's usually frosty blue eyes were bright and warm with mirth.

Cullen's breath felt short and thought that Lirenel should smile more often. He could feel his heart thumping irregularly and his stomach lurched. A smile began to form in Cullen's lips as well, and a warm flutter settled in his heart. His feet suddenly felt lighter, as if Cullen would float any minute now. His head was drifting in the clouds, as if lyrium was running in his veins.

Then the smile in Lirenel's face disappeared, the warmth and mirth in his eyes froze into cold indifference. A scowl etched deeply on his lips and he quickly returned to his studies.

As for Cullen, he felt the warmth forming in his chest freeze with cold dread. Despair gnawed at the very pit of his gut and he almost felt sick. The sudden mood change in Lirenel threw him off. Stumbling back, Cullen can't help but wonder why did the elf suddenly gave him a cold shoulder.

They have been going on fine a few moments ago, why did Lirenel suddenly… push him away? Feeling a little bit hurt, Cullen hung his head, but did not show his discomfort to the other.

"I… Well. I hope to see you later." Cullen saw Lirenel clench his fists, the items in his hands crumpled. His knucles were turning white and he looked back up to Cullen.

Cullen's breath hitched. Lirenel's eyes shone, and there was a silent plea in them.

_Save me._

Cullen stared at Lirenel, stunned. However, deep inside him, he knew what to say, and he _will _say what he needs to because he believes he can do it, and he _will_ see to it 'till the bitter end.

"I will."


	5. V

**Notes: **Thank you, Kira Tamarion for beta-reading my story. You are great and I love you so much! Thanks for the help! XD Also thank you Ventisquear for your lovely reviews~ XD I really appreciate them! Your feedback is greatly appreciated~

Chapter 5. Dun. Dun. Duuuuunnnn... Well...

My warnings...

**Warnings: This story contains YAOI/SLASH (Male on Male relationships) This story contains triggers for people who are abused (Sexually, physically, emotionally). If you are uneasy about these kind of contents, I suggest to stop reading. This story will also contain (possibly in the future) mentions and/or actual abuse. If you are uneasy about that as well, I suggest to stop reading. This story isn't for the faint of heart and the tone will be darker later on.**

**Also, this chapter contains sensitive material, involving rape, emotional, physical, and sexual abuse. If you are uneasy about these themes, you can stop reading.**

**Enjoy.**

**EDIT: 06-08-2012 - I edited a few passages to make sure this isn't NC-17. **

**Blizzard**

_Chapter Five_

Lirenel did not look up from where he sat. His gaze remained firmly on the stone floor. He did not shudder as cool air raised goose bumps on his skin. His robe was thrown carelessly over the bed next to him, and his boots were in front of the door.

"Hey, I heard about what happened in the library." Still, the elf did not look up. He knows his captor's tone is gentle, but he is not fooled. He had known his unwanted companion for a long time, and he will never be fooled.

'_**But you were fooled from the start. Now, you can't run, and no one will help you.'**_

"I'm sorry about that. You really should be more careful when you're in the library. It could have toppled over you!" Lirenel's eyes hardened. He refused to meet the gaze of the other occupant of the room, he knows that he is asking for trouble, but Lirenel doesn't care.

'_It's your fault you bastard. It's your fault, and you know it.'_

A new weight dipped on the bed, and an arm snaked around Lirenel's shoulders. The elf stiffened, the urge to strangle the man beside him stirred, but he quickly crushed it.

An image of his abuser's dead and broken body flashed in his mind and he wondered how sweet it would be to swipe that grin off his face. He imagined the pungent smell of a rotting body flaring in his nostrils, and sweet blood drying on the floor. Flesh strewn in a bloody mess, limbs twisted in dangerous angles, innards pulled at haphazardly as it dangled over a mangled torso, face frozen in eternal fear—all these filled Lirenel's head as he imagined the older man's unfortunate demise at his hands.

'_**You can easily kill him. You have the power to do it. There is magic thrumming deep beneath your skin, all you need is ask.'**_

And yet, Lirenel knew that his efforts would be in vain. He is a mage, the person he hates the most in the world is a templar. No matter what spell Lirenel would try to cast, it would cleansed, then the templar would smite him for even trying.

And he hated it. He hates this feeling of utter helplessness every time he is within the vicinity of this bastard. He wanted to see the life leave his eyes and that smug grin on his face scream in pain and fear. Lirenel wanted to scream and tear his hair out in despair. He wanted to hurt and cause pain just to ease his own. He wanted to cry and rage to the heavens, screaming his hatred and anger to the Maker. He wanted to curse everyone for letting him suffer and burn everything and everyone, but he can't.

The older man pulled him into an embrace, Lirenel tensed.

"I'm so sorry for hurting you. I never meant that to happen." A soft kiss planted on the elf's temple.

'_Liar.'_

Lirenel clenched his fists, his knuckles were white, his nails broke his skin, and blood seeped through the cracks. Lirenel took a deep breath and did not lean in or push the templar away.

"I want to make it up to you." Then his mask of indifference broke. His burning rage was quickly replaced by freezing fear.

Tears blurred his vision and bile burned his throat. His whole body was shaking and he can feel his heart beating fast. Lirenel's vision was spinning and he was getting dizzier. Cold seeped into his stomach and his breath came out in short and strangled gasps. He wanted to scream, but his cries would be silenced.

"No… please… Not tonight… Please, I can't—"

"Shhh… Shhh… It's going to be okay. I'm here; I'll keep you safe. I will always protect you, I promise."

Whimpering, Lirenel tried to pull away, his hands pushed against the templar's chest, but they were futile. The arm around his shoulder wound up on his neck, and his back tensed against the templar's chest. Lirenel's hands held on to the arm holding him on a near-choke, trying to pull them away. The templar's hold on him is far too strong and the arm around the elf's neck tightened.

"Don't squirm around too much." A hint of impatience was in the templar's voice, but Lirenel no longer cared if he aggravated his human companion. All that mattered now is to get away as far as he can.

Tears streamed down Lirenel's face as he continued to struggle. He tried to call for help, but another hand muffled his cries. Still, he continued to call out, but calloused hands smothered his voice. The elf tried clawing at the arms of his captors, his nails digging and breaking skin, leaving traces of blood. The templar tightened his hold, suffocating the mage.

"Don't make this harder than it already is." The templar's voice was rising, and Lirenel knew he is angry, but it won't stop him for trying to get away.

He continued to struggle and claw at the larger man's arms, but they were all in vain. The templar adjusted his position so that Lirenel sat on his lap.

Lirenel froze. His world was spinning, his throat burns, and the blood in his veins turned to ice. Fear blossomed at the pit of his heart and a scream of anguish wanted to tear out from his throat. His eyes were wide and he trashed around the templar's grasp. His heart was pounding against his ears and pain hammered against his skull. Lirenel was unable to suppress his violent shudder. He tried digging his heels on the templar's limbs, but the older man made no sign that it hurt him at all. Lirenel's nails dug harder, bits of skin and blood stuck to his nails.

Disgust and shame swept through Lirenel as he felt the heat of the human's perversion

"Stop it!" The templar was snarling; his arm clamped hard on Lirenel's throat.

Lirenel could feel the air entering his lungs cut off, he tried gasping out for oxygen, but the man's hands clamped his mouth harshly. Healing magic pumped automatically to ease the bruises forming around his mouth and throat. His lungs were burning, and fire mixed with ice that swept through Lirenel's veins that left him in agonizing pain.

Lirenel could see black spots entering his vision, and his struggles slowly subsided. The pain numbed away and left him feeling empty. The pounding of his heart slowed dangerously, and his hold on the templar's arm loosened. Lirenel could feel himself floating away, his eyes slowly fluttered shut as tears continued to fall. His body turned limp and he leaned down weakly against his will.

'_It's better this way,'_ he thought. His arms fell uselessly to his side and his eyes fluttered shut. He feels like he was floating away, and he hoped that he wouldn't be dragged back to the ground.

Images of Maura, Jowan, and Irving flashed in his head, but they began to float away. Memories and emotions floated deep within his mind, but he felt them fleeing from his grasp. His hold on his own body loosened, and he was floating away.

It felt good. His troubles and worries turning into dust in the wind. A voice inside his head was screaming that it wasn't over yet, he still has unfinished business in this world and his time isn't over yet. Yet he doesn't want to deal with everything anymore. He was just so tired, resting is just within his grasp, and he can finally sleep away in peace. All he had to do was to give in, and it would be over.

Then he came crashing down. He started gasping for air and he was thankful for the sweet oxygen that entered his lungs. His heart began beating frantically and adrenaline rushed in his body. His hands quickly held on his throat, massaging them and using healing magic to ease the burning. Tears continued to stream down his face, and the pain returned and nearly knocked the wind out of him. His tongue felt heavy and large, any attempt at talking is difficult.

"I'm sorry! Maker, no! I didn't mean that! I'm sorry! Please Nel, forgive me…" Lirenel froze.

He couldn't bear look at the templar behind him, fear gnawed at his gut again, and it made him cold and dull of dread. Lirenel dared not to struggle again, fearing that his captor would punish him once more.

Lirenel did not struggle as the templar began to press kisses on his neck. He did not dare move as the human's lips lowered and continued to bite and suck that left small red marks around his neck and throat. His mind began to close around him, retreating to a deep chasm that will protect him from the shame, disgust and regret that he will be feeling later. He did not show any signs of defiance as the templar laid him on the bed reverently, with kisses full of lust and love trailing down his torso.

Cold raced down Lirenel's back as rough hands undid his small clothes. Lirenel did not even clench his fists as the templar's continued on his wicked act of degrading and humiliating him. Lirenel only stared dully ahead, drawing away from the reality and seeking refuge within his own mind. His body endured the shame and humiliation and his eyes can only stare unseeingly ahead.

When the templar was done, Lirenel was still trapped within his own mind. However, clarity returned to his eyes as the older man pressed kisses to his neck. Pain racked his body, the most having come from the very base of his spine.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." The templar chanted apologies in a reverent mantra; guilt is obvious in his voice. Tears were streaming down his face as he embraced Lirenel in a seemingly sincere show of apology and affection.

Lirenel looked away, unable to look at the now pathetic looking human.

Lirenel felt confusion and uncertainty creeping in his heart. It clenched painfully and his head throbbed in confusion.

He made no move to comfort the templar, but he made no move to pull away either.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Lirenel ate his potatoes in small bites, relishing the taste and the gravy that coated it. Maura and Jowan discussed Lirenel's Harrowing, which will hopefully be a few years later.

Not that he is worried about his Harrowing; Lirenel is only a little worried that should he pass, he would be transferred to a different Circle instead.

Soon enough, they have to leave, Lirenel's food is almost gone and his hunger sated. Too bad the kitchens ran out of fresh fruit. Shipments were having problems; there were whispers of a great disaster. The Circle's supplies aren't scarce yet, but if Ferelden's problem isn't solved in the next three years, they will be having problems with food, magical items, and equipment. For now, mages and templars only worry with escape attempts, blood magic, and tearing each other's throats in frustration.

When the three finished eating, they continued to talk.

"Someone disturbed my pile again." Jowan's voice was petulant and childish, but Maura found it humorous.

Lirenel snorted.

"It must have been Enchanter Ira. She wasn't happy when she found the food you left between the pages."

Jowan pouted.

"It wasn't food! It was dried elfroot, I swear!" Jowan threw up his arms in the air in exasperation, Maura and Lirenel sighed.

"It left stains on the text. You really did it again Jowan." Maura shook her head with a 'tsk'.

Then Jowan stopped.

"I forgot something at the chapel! I'd be right back!" Jowan ran off towards the stairs, his robe flapped wildly, exposing his hairy limbs. He tripped.

Lirenel chuckled and Maura stifled a giggle, watching as Jowan picked himself up off the floor and resumed running.

A templar came into view, striding towards the two of them hurriedly. The two apprentices stopped; tense, waiting to see if the templar intends to communicate with them. The air grew heavy and the sound of metallic footfalls on cold stone echoed in the halls. When the templar reached the two, he stopped right in front of Lirenel then pulled out a piece of parchment.

Lirenel took it, and then the templar walked away without another word. When the templar disappeared from the vicinity, the tension in the air lifted and small noises returned to the backdrop of the hall.

'_Tonight.'_ Lirenel paled, he quickly pocketed the note, his hands shook and sweat formed in his forehead.

His temples throbbed and his heart was pounding against his ears.

"What does it say?" Maura asked, her eyes shone with worry.

"It's nothing… I… It's nothing." Maura wasn't convinced. She gave him a sharp stare.

Fidgeting, Lirenel tried to ease his racing heart. He quickly tried to think for an excuse, so that Maura would stop asking.

"Irving handed me a project. It's nothing really. He just wanted me to compile my research about the Fade and lyrium grown plants." Maura continued to stare at him unblinkingly; Lirenel stared back with a blank expression.

Neither stood down as they continued to stare at one another intensely, their gazes never strayed, and it felt as if an eternity passed before one broke off from the stare down.

Maura looked away and sighed; weariness and exhaustion shrouded her countenance. "Lirenel, you and I know that's a lie. You already compiled that, remember?"

Lirenel cursed inwardly, he forgot about that, but he can still twist it. "I had to edit a few passages. Irving said that the Chantry might censor my research, so I will rephrase plenty of my text."

Maura sighed. "And what could possibly be controversial that the Chantry would want to censor it?"

"Blood-related theories, they might end up thinking its Blood Magic." That wasn't untrue, however that was what Irving suggested when he presented the theory a month before.

Maura narrowed her eyes, and then sighed. Her shoulders slumped and exhausted lines around her face formed. "I won't ask, but please… If you need any help, we'll always be here for you."

Lirenel looked away, guilty and ashamed. He had always felt bad for lying to Maura. The guilt and shame that fills his heart and soul never eased, even after all those years…

Shaking his head out of his reverie, Lirenel took another deep breath. "I'm sorry. I… I'll see you in the morning."

Walking away, Lirenel headed off the opposite direction, towards the stairs, to the templar quarters.

For all the years since this complicated life of his began, he wished he could have told Maura.

'_But it's too late for that now.'_

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Lirenel's legs were up to his chest. His robes pulled up a bit, exposing a bit of his legs. His face was pressed to his knees, curling further into himself.

"Here, take it." Lirenel looked up, and gave the templar a blank look.

A stick of candied apple was a few inches away from his face.

He gazed at the black-haired human warily, wondering what he wanted now. Thankfully, he did not order Lirenel to strip, and Lirenel is thankful for the reprieve. Perhaps, it was an advantage that the templar seeks him every other night, but he was always so rough on Lirenel, that his activities have lasting side effects. However, Lirenel was starting to have problems with walking, with the way the older man would treat him whenever the templar wanted to relieve stress. Blocking out the pain with Entropy helped him, but he can't do it every time after the abuse.

Entropy can only do so much for long as maintaining magic with mana is a difficult task, and keeping other templars from noticing that he has been using magic is even harder.

Looking back at the offered confection, Lirenel tried to discern the human's intentions. His eyes were narrowed and a scowl fitted his face. The offered candy looked innocent enough. He looked up, trying to read the templar's face.

His offer seemed genuine enough, the concern in his eyes looked true, and the determined frown on his mouth did not look fake either. Still, there had been occasions that the human pretended to be genuine in his efforts, and Lirenel suffered horribly on these instances. However, there were…

Lirenel hesitated.

There were instances where his offers were true. Those instances were times when the templar did not ask for anything in return. They were few and Lirenel could count those instances without going over twenty, but in these moments…

He believed.

He truly did believe that the older man's display of affections were true and real. He had believed that the man wanted him. He had truly believed that the man cared and loved him. He had believed that the man never took him against his will, never took advantage of everything he did, and the emptiness and the horrendous suffering he receives did not happen.

Whenever these instances appear, the rage and bitterness gnawing at his soul eased.

And when the templar would take him, he does it as gently as possible that leaves Lirenel reeling and more confused than ever.

Tentatively, he took the offered apple, looking at the fruit at different angles, searching for any signs of tampering or poison. Sniffing the item a bit, he decided it was safe.

He took a bite.

It was so sweet. The taste lingered on his mouth and slid on his throat smoothly. It was a strange thing, but he is sure that the templar did not poison him.

He smiles hesitantly, but his expression quickly turns into horror.

'_It wasn't poisoned,'_ Lirenel realized. The templar had _smote_ him. And the sweet fruit? It was laced with lyrium.

His magic turned against him, hostile spirit energy raced down from his mouth, down to his throat right before settling deep in his chest and the pit of his stomach. It was horrible. He could feel his connection to the Fade disappearing, but he knows that he isn't truly cut off from the realm.

Sick with horror and revulsion, Lirenel shot up, but a wave of dizziness and pain stopped him. He fell back to the bed facing up, his back arched painfully and he bit his tongue to keep the scream that formed in his mouth from escaping. He couldn't feel his limbs, and his mouth felt too large for his mouth. His nerves were on fire and his whole body was shaking. His lungs can't get any more air, and his pounding heart felt as if it would burst out of his chest.

Unable to endure the pain any longer, a scream formed in his throat, ready to be released, but a hand smothering his mouth cut off his cries of anguish. Tears streamed down Lirenel's face as burning pain ravaged his whole body.

'_Please! Oh Maker! Stop!'_

But his pleas to the Maker did not move the God. The templar tore off the laces of his robe harshly. Lirenel tries to bite the hand, but it tightened into a vice-like grip. Nails were digging into his cheeks, breaking the skin and thick drops of blood mixed with tears. Then the hand disappeared, and Lirenel was coughed, reaching to his cheeks, hoping to ease the bleeding. His muscles screamed; he like knives stabbed his arms with his sudden movement. He groaned, his flesh throbbing and aching with pain.

A gasp of fear and pain escaped his lips when his robe was pushed down. He grabbed the material, attempting to save whatever shred of dignity he had, but it was all in vain. He distinctly felt rough hands flipping him to his back. He flailed his arms, hoping to hit the human, but the man captured his wrists and held it above Lirenel's head.

He wanted to hide, retreat to the chasm that he created for himself when he finds reality too much of a nightmare. But he couldn't, he had been using magic to 'go away', and now that it was denied from him, he can't escape.

He wanted to scream as he felt every bit of dignity and control he had slipped away. Lirenel shook, not sure if it's due to rage, pain, or fear. Betrayal is far in his mind, but he should have known. He really should have known that it would end up this way. However, it's too late for that now. It has been far too late to regret anything, far too late to turn this situation around and—

"Ah! No! Please, I—mmph!" Lirenel choked as the templar's other hand clamped around his mouth, silencing his cries.

Shame and anger arose; the utter incapability of helping himself fuelled his self-resentment. He could have saved himself any time he wanted. He could have killed the templar and be done with it. Had he killed the templar the first time, he wouldn't be suffering from humiliation and the horrible experience of being violated over and over again.

'_**Yes, you should have. Such a shame you still refuse."**_

But still…

No matter how much he wanted to, Lirenel could never bring himself to. No matter how he imagined the templar's horrible and gruesome death, there will always be that little part of him niggling, screaming 'No!' and a part of him would feel horrible for even _thinking_ of it.

He had never felt so confused in his life. However, that—

A jolt of agony raced from the base of his spine, fire coursing from his back then to his head.

He wanted to scream so badly, but he couldn't.

He can only wish for someone to save him.

Then it was gone, it was over. Relief flooded Lirenel, but it was short-lived as every cell in his body screamed in agony. His throbbing and aching muscles were a reminder of the horrible act that transpired. He was shaking horribly, every inch of his nerves burned. However, it was all over now, he's safe, even for now.

Tears continued to stream down his face, mixing with his blood, staining the white sheets of the templar's bed. His breath came out in short gasps, mixing with broken sobs. Shame burned his lungs and heart, every inch of his skin was filthy, and his very soul and essence was a dark chasm full of demons instead of light and the will of the Maker.

Lirenel curled into himself, shielding himself away from the templar. He tried to silence the sobs escaping from his lips, even if it would just to ease his burning throat, but he couldn't stop.

The bed shifted, and he felt a pair of hands cradling him against a toned chest. He recoiled, but he was held firmly in place, incapable of summoning the strength and will to pull away. Lirenel's body sagged in defeat and exhaustion, but he would not take comfort in the templar's fake display of affection.

Slowly, his eyes drooped against his will, and the bit of light left in him hoped and prayed for a savior. The misery that clung to him eased a bit as lighter thoughts formed in his mind.

Perhaps one day, someone will save him, and he wouldn't have to suffer between the bouts of utter misery and the confused and obviously misplaced affection.

A man with red hair, a young face, donned in templar came into mind. A small smile formed in his lips, but it did not fade away like most good things that happened in Lirenel's life.

"_Cullen…"_

_Thwack!_

Blue eyes snapped open, wide with shock.

"He's the initiate, right? You have been meeting with him haven't you?"

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit! He didn't mean to say that out loud!

"No! I, remember bumping into him and it was an accident—I swear, I'm not—I'm not seeing him—"

_Slap!_

"I don't believe you! After everything I did for you, this is how you repay me? I should have—"

Lirenel eyes shifted frantically, between the door to his freedom then to the human. His eyes were wide in fear as horrible dread settled on the pit of his stomach.

"Ahh!" He was pushed back the bed, his face smothered over the pillow, suffocating his cries. Hands steadied his hips, and the fire of agony and shame flared.

He was screaming and sobbing, he doesn't know. He was begging and pleading too, but he can't hear his own voice or feel anything else except for the pain that his body suffered.

However, the templar's words rang true and it slicked in his ears like poison.

He can hear them, vaguely aware, but he understood. The need to rebel arose, but he temporarily squashed it down. In a sick sort of way, he knows he had a bit of power against the templar and made him suffer temporarily from this small bout of jealousy.

He can hear the insults pour off the human's mouth, and it _hurt_. No matter how many times he heard it, it always hurt him. He knows a part of it is true. No one would want him. No one would ever bother with him. And the templar's next words created a wound that is far too deep that it created another chasm in his already scarred and broken heart.

"_Not even Cullen will want you."_

Lirenel bit his lips, and knew his tormentor's words to be true. Cullen wouldn't want him, should he find out what Lirenel does when no one is looking. He can't ever hope to catch the attention of one of the purest people he met with his taint.

Lirenel sobbed, as he clenched the blankets and no longer able to feel his abuser batter and break his body.

He fell into oblivion.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

His eyes searched the halls, hoping his human demon isn't present.

Sensing that the coast is clear, Lirenel stepped out of the kitchen. He barely made it a few feet away right before bumping into someone. He was pulled into balance before he can fall. However, the materials he was carrying fell on the floor into an ungraceful heap.

It seems that fate has a nasty sense of humor.

He bumped into a templar. It wasn't just any templar. It was _Cullen_.

'_Of all the people…'_ Lirenel thought, exhausted. He feels horrible, sweat made his robes sticky, and a well-placed entropy spell kept the scent hidden.

He desperately wants a bath now. However, his exhaustion and exasperation kept him from quickly picking up his possessions.

"I'm sorry about that. I… er… Here! Let me help!" Cullen stammered. Lirenel let a blank expression on his face, however his mind was a whirlwind of chaos.

Is his abuser around? How did Cullen find him? Did Greagoir send Cullen off into another chore because he is currently arguing with Irving and can't do it himself? is his meeting with Cullen on purpose or coincidence? Will the black-haired templar who loved to torment him notice?

Sighing mentally, Lirenel replied, "That's okay."

Cullen quickly dropped down to pick up his items. He frowned, not expecting the templar to really help him at all, let alone carry everything for him.

"You don't have to carry all of them." What could Cullen possibly gain from helping him? Then again, Cullen isn't the brightest knight in the lot, but there are worse templars. Carroll is a good example of how screwed up templars can be.

He did not clench his eyes shut, but he tried to block out thoughts concerning his personal affair with another templar.

"It's alright. I… er… bumped into you. So it's my fault, really! I should help." Lirenel stared at Cullen, unsure of his motives.

Sighing, Lirenel let Cullen do as he wishes. It can't be that bad, right?

"I'm going back to the dormitories. Will you really carry these for me?"

"It's no problem at all. Besides, my next shift starts in an hour, so I'm not immediately needed somewhere."

Lirenel nodded and led the way.

He hoped that their interaction would be quiet, but he was mistaken. Cullen asked many inane things, but the templar thankfully did not prod once Lirenel tells him to back off. However, when Cullen isn't satisfied with his limited use of his wide vocabulary, he would add in a few details just to keep Cullen from asking.

When he had asked about Maura and her relationship with Cullen, Lirenel felt… relieved, and he was a little confused why.

He decided not to dwell on those thoughts and simply focused on the present instead.

At one point, they had to hide in an alcove to avoid looking friendly, and then they resumed their trek to the dormitories.

When the two arrived, Lirenel quickly headed for his trunk, before pointing out to Cullen that the bed next to it is his. He quickly organized his items then stored them into the chest. Rummaging, he grabbed his sleeping robes and toiletries.

Cullen is a little persistent, but Lirenel found himself not minding. There is something that is just so… honest about Cullen, that he found it impossible to hate the templar.

Cullen glowed.

Not in the way that he creates blight flares against the Veil. Cullen glowed with something Lirenel saw in children, a few of the other mages, plenty of the other templars, and he can't help but feel horrible for being near him. Cullen reminded him of Maura, a bit of Jowan, Wynne, and many others.

Sighing, Lirenel headed to the bathing chambers, his basket held with both arms.

He shut the screen to the tub tight, too bad there weren't any locks. Buckets of water sloshed on the tub, heated with magic. Lirenel stripped, and then folded his robe neatly and placed it on the stool. His small clothes followed next then he stepped into the water.

Not many male apprentices love taking baths, preferring their 'masculine musk' and 'the smell of a man'. As for Lirenel, he can never seem to get clean.

No matter how much he tried, how hard he scrubbed, or how red and raw his skin ends up, he can never be clean.

His pale skin will always have thin scars adorning them. Clean cuts crisscrossed his arms, and bruises and scratches littered his back. Red marks vandalized his neck and collar, a crude and uncivilized show of ownership.

Lirenel sighed and relaxed, letting the water soothe the ache that accumulated from the last three days ease away. He closed his eyes and cleared his mind away from reality, away from the living nightmares, away from his worries, his insecurities, friends, that blasted templar, and Cullen.

The screen to the chamber slid open, Lirenel quickly pulled his knees to his chest to give himself a semblance of dignity and braced for the intruding apprentice.

It wasn't an apprentice.

Lirenel paled, wondering how in Thedas did that bastard know he would be here?

Lirenel looked away, hiding his scowl.

The templar sighed, seemingly tired and exhausted just as Lirenel was. "Tonight." Then he left, shutting the screen quietly.

Lirenel gritted his teeth in frustration. Of course, how can he forget their weekly meeting? Sure, he does need a reminder every now and then.

Letting out a huff of frustration, Lirenel massaged his temples, and then he sagged on the tub, exhausted and defeated.

'_No peace for the tormented',_ he thought bitterly.

He did not know how long he stayed in the tub, but he realized that it was already late when the golden light of the sun turned into the pale hue of the moon.

The elf stepped out of the bath, skin a little red, raw, and his fingers were wrinkly for the time he spent in the water. He quickly dried himself with a tower and dressed into his sleeping robes.

When he stepped out, he carefully cast a few Entropy spells to turn his scars invisible. He quickly stored his used robes into the laundry basket and returned to his bed.

He waited. He did not sleep, and when the time came, Lirenel sat up, thankful for the darkness that concealed everyone in the dormitories.

Templars are human beings, capable of mistakes, vulnerability, and lack of judgment. When they are exhausted, they drop their guard and that leaves them open for attacks.

Much like now.

Gathering mana, he cast a sleeping spell, willing it more power as a few of the templars recognized it. He let the spell affect everyone in the dormitory, except him, leaving them all trapped in a sleep that will last for hours.

He left the quarters, entering through a secret passage that will lead him to the templars' quarters.

It was hours later when Lirenel returned.

And when he returned, he was hurt, defeated, broken, and utterly exhausted that he fell flat on his bed, curling into himself. He clenched his fists, unable to sleep peacefully. And when he did fall into unconsciousness, he received no sanctuary.

Demons greeted him in the Fade, tempting him with power, trying to appeal to his wishes, and trying to fuel his rage and thirst for vengeance.

He blocked them out, refusing everything they wanted to give, refusing to let them win. He has no power in the world of living; he will not be powerless in the Fade as well. He refuses to be reduced into an empty puppet whose strings can easily be tugged.

He will defy demons in the Fade if he cannot defy the monsters in the Mortal realm.

Then the demons ran, recoiling in pain as bright light descended upon them. In the Fade, Lirenel tilted his head to one side, confused why they escaped. He shivered; a cool breeze blew over him.

He gazed at the light that sent the demons away, fascinated by the radiance and warmth its aura carried. Hesitantly, Lirenel backed away into a tree in the Fade. He knows it was not real, but he leaned on it anyway, for support.

The light neared him, but he looked away, not understanding why a benevolent element would want to keep company with him. He is a tainted soul; he deserves less than everyone he meets. Why would anyone want to help him?

'_I'll save you,' _the spirit said, and Lirenel felt the damn holding in his emotions break.

He cried, letting his grief, shame, anger, and all of the poison he carried in his soul out. The spirit descended upon Lirenel, embracing him, warming his tired and weary heart and soul.

It cannot heal the wounds, but it can only offer comfort for now. However, that doesn't mean that there is no hope.

"_Please… Please… Save me."_


End file.
